


Just A Little Longer

by jelly_pies



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Buried Alive, F/M, FebuWhump2021, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Tony Stark, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Pre-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29336322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelly_pies/pseuds/jelly_pies
Summary: "You tried to break out again?""You know I can't help it," Tony replies. Over the comms, Pepper hears the thump of flesh against wood. "Bastard's solid as ever.""When we tell you to sit tight…""Right, because the search is going so well?" Tony snaps.Pepper sighs, scanning the hologram projections through a helmet she hadn't taken off since Tony first called. The blinking lights and notices remain the same: no hits on his location.Tony echoes her sigh on the other end of the line. Pepper doesn't need to answer him.-For FebuWhump Day 9: buried alive.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Comments: 16
Kudos: 30
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	Just A Little Longer

**Author's Note:**

> Me: wow this is depressing *keeps writing*
> 
> (Seriously, there's nothing happy in this fic. Pepper and Tony love each other but they're going through a rough relationship patch, and then things get even worse. Heed the hurt no comfort tag.)

"I was on my way, Pep. I'm sorry."

Pepper manages to chuckle through a tight throat, because only Tony Stark would apologize for missing dinner on account of being ambushed, captured—and buried alive.

"We'll take a rain check," she teases, to mask the fear in her voice.

"Yeah, that sounds—" sudden coughing breaks up Tony's voice over the comms. It's been getting worse, Pepper observes; stale air in an underground coffin can't be doing his already weak lungs any favors.

'Underground' is an assumption, of course, like everything else they currently know about her husband's situation—but where else could he be? There had been no calls from his kidnappers, no demands. Just Tony waking up in a dark box, and by some miracle contacting Pepper's Rescue helmet through a nanotech communicator hidden in his own wedding ring.

Tony had described dark, dusty, musty. A dull thudding when he pounded on the walls. All evidence pointed to Tony being buried alive, and if nobody found him soon—he had no way out.

"Don't worry about dinner," Pepper tells him a touch sharply, "conserve your air."

"How long has it been?"

She checks the corner of her helmet's heads-up display. "Just over an hour since you first called."

"And FRIDAY—"

 _"Tony."_ Pepper can’t help the testiness that creeps into her voice. "FRIDAY's doing everything she can, Rhodey's still out there searching—wherever they've got you, they're still bouncing the signal around. Just—" she takes a deep breath. "Hold on. Please, hold on. Just a little longer."

She doesn't know whether the silence on the other end of the line is a good sign. Then— "I was on my way."

"Tony. I _know,_ it's not your fau—"

"I know how much you wanted to talk. Over dinner. What this meant… I just…" He trails off, and Pepper hears the regret in his voice. "I keep missing it, I'm sorry."

As much as she wants to reassure him, Pepper pauses before answering.

The last time Tony had 'missed it,' she had found him with a bottle of whiskey in the garage. The time before that, weeping in front of a slab with Peter Parker's name. And so on and so forth.

The year after the Decimation had been easy on no one—Tony Stark, least of all. And it definitely had not been easy on their relationship.

They had had their high points—the ring on Pepper's finger, and a matching one on Tony's where the nanotech communicator was stored, were proof. But the lows were as epic as the highs.

Their breaking point came last week. When Tony had apologized for his relapse—for everything—and they had set today's date to talk properly in the middle of both their busy schedules. Finally, things were starting to look up.

Until some bastard attacked Tony on the road and stuck him in a coffin.

Pepper ultimately decides on an answer on the lighter side. "I hardly think this time you missed it on purpose. You would have brought burgers with you in the coffin."

That earns a weak laugh, and Pepper smiles. Tony isn't the only person relying on humor to cope.

"I meant what I said last week," Tony's voice comes softly. "Every bit of it. I'm sorry."

"Tony…"

"I just want you to know."

The line is silent for the next few minutes.

* * *

"How long has it been?"

"Hour and forty-one." Pepper doesn't need to check this time. "How are you holding up?"

"Good, very good. Although I could use those burgers you were talking about earlier."

"You tried to break out again, didn't you?"

"You know I can't help it." Pepper hears the thump of flesh against wood. "Bastard's solid as ever."

"When we tell you to _sit tight…"_

"Right, because the search is going so well?" Tony snaps.

Pepper sighs, scanning the hologram projections through a helmet she hadn't taken off since Tony first called. The blinking lights and notices remain the same: no hits on his location.

Tony echoes her sigh on the other end of the line. Pepper doesn't need to answer him.

* * *

Three hours ago, the first time Pepper forwarded Tony's call to Rhodey's suit, she had felt just the tiniest bit guilty for listening in. But now their conversation barely even registers. It's like Tony's voice lives inside her head, as much as his only current communication is through her Rescue helmet.

 _'Sorry.'_ She catches the single word in Tony's scratchy tone. Then Rhodey's reply, something along the lines of, _'Keep looking. Not giving up.'_

Another _'sorry.'_

Pepper slumps in her suit, staring at FRIDAY’s running estimate on her display. According to it, Tony has already burned through more than half his oxygen supply.

For someone with a moniker of 'Rescue,' Pepper has never felt so helpless.

* * *

"Tony!"

His breathing comes in gasps. FRIDAY runs a formal assessment, but Pepper doesn't need it to confirm what's going on. Her husband is having a panic attack—in an enclosed container with limited air.

"Pep… Pepper, I—I'm fine, I just—" Tony's voice shakes. Another gasp, like he's just come out of water, but again, and again, like the drowning never ends.

"Hey, hey, listen to my breathing, Tony, in… hold… and out, we're doing this together, okay? In…"

She repeats counting until Tony's breathing slows down. Pepper's no stranger to panic attacks, whether Tony's or her own—but this situation is definitely a first. There's a quick sob on the other end of the line. Pepper wonders how long Tony had been keeping that in.

"Tony?" Pepper tries to use the soft tone either of them uses after incidents like these. "Listen, I can… I can turn my audio off. Just for a while, if—if you want. And you can cry, and… let it all out? In private?"

"Okay," Tony's reply comes after a long pause. “Okay, but, Pep, if you can… can you keep talking?” His voice sounds small, so small. “Please?”

Pepper talks.

She talks of anything she can think of to help calm him down. The work they're doing to their new lake house. The improvements to the garden beside the old chicken coop. "Chickens. You wanted to have some, remember? Maybe a goat. We always said when our schedules clear…" She talks about their plans. They never seemed to run out of plans.

Pepper talks about the room upstairs that Tony was going to convert to a nursery. "I'll take next week off. What do you say we paint it together?" Tony doesn't answer or instruct FRIDAY to turn the audio back on, so Pepper continues. "We said we'd do a lot of things together, didn't we? But we kept going between the lake house and the city… our new life, and the old. And we just… we never made time."

She feels a tear escape, sliding against the cool metal of the helmet.

"Because time meant… that we had to talk. And I kept busy, with the company, because—after the Decimation, I—I felt I'd go insane if I didn't. And I think… you did the same thing, too."

With the helmet on, Pepper can't wipe the wetness on her cheeks. So she just keeps crying.

"It's a long road, we both said… we both knew. But, Tony—we were on our way. Weren't we? Just a little longer…" Because that’s what they always seem to need. Always a little longer. Always a little more time.

But time was cruel. Time was a weapon, helping turn half their lives to dust. Time was an unforgiving cycle, the bottle in Tony's hand, the unnecessary appointments Pepper added to her schedule instead of coming home for dinner.

And time held Tony's breath in its grasp.

"Oh, God. When we get out of this, Tony, I—I can't wait to hold you again. And I don't think I'm gonna let go for a long time, okay?" She sniffles, laughs to mask her voice breaking. "Just a little longer. Just hold on."

There’s a long silence, and more softly, Pepper asks, "FRIDAY?"

A message types out on her display. _'Boss is still there. Breathing has slowed down.'_ And on the next line, _'Crying.'_

"I'm sorry," Pepper whispers. "I want you to know."

* * *

The minutes, hours drag on.

Pepper's calls with Rhodey turn from tense, to procedural, to brief, as hope dies like a flower. Eventually Tony turns the audio back on, even though they both know he won't be able to say much.

"Hi, hon," Pepper greets sadly. Tony wouldn't be turning the audio off again. They both know this is the final stretch.

Suddenly Pepper wants nothing more than to hear her husband's voice, even a whisper. Maybe it’s selfish to ask. But this could very well be the last time she hears it.

"Tony, I've been meaning to ask. This communicator." The one piece of tech they didn't take from Tony. The one piece hidden safely, in... "Your wedding ring. Why? Of all places to put it..." Her voice falters.

"Wasn't able to say goodbye… too many times," Tony replies. His voice is scratchy, slurring. Frail. He takes a deep breath before going on. "My reminder to… to call you."

 _“It's always you,”_ another death message from long ago echoes in Pepper's ears.

"I'm glad you called me." She closes her eyes. "I will always, always be glad you called me."

Tony doesn't speak again.

* * *

There's no moment, no click, no feeling in Pepper’s heart. Not even FRIDAY can tell, as the signal's always been weak anyway.

Pepper tells Tony it's gonna be okay, knowing it isn't. She tells him to hold on, knowing he can't. Just a little longer.

Always a little longer.

The search comes through hours later. It's Rhodey who had the gut feeling of a grief-struck revenge, Rhodey who combed through memorial upon memorial of the Vanished, looking for disturbed tombstones.

It's Rhodey who digs up Tony's coffin.

FRIDAY performs one last body scan on her inventor. Tony had run out of air three hours before they arrived.

As promised, Pepper holds him, and doesn't let go for a long, long time. "I was on my way. Why couldn't you hold on, just a little longer. Just a while longer. I was on my way."

Someone touches her shoulder. Pepper doesn't get up. “Just a little longer,” she begs. That’s what they always seemed to need. What they didn't get.

Always a little longer.


End file.
